


you turned around (and we locked eyes)

by tamerofdarkstars



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fill, clint and tony are delightfully oblivious, no surface is sacred, phil and steve being friends is my favorite thing, shameless shameless self indulgent fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1700900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamerofdarkstars/pseuds/tamerofdarkstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Tony are together. Clint and Coulson are together. </p><p>It's not exactly a secret.</p><p>(Except apparently, it kinda is.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you turned around (and we locked eyes)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the nicest fandom on the planet oh my goodness you're all so lovely. This is a fill for the following prompt over on the cc-feels meme.
> 
> "Coulson knows Steve and Tony are together, but Clint has no idea.  
> Steve knows Clint and Coulson are together, but Tony has no idea.  
> Clint and Tony find out at the same time and are horrified. "YOU'RE KISSING THE SUIT IN MY HOUSE?" "YOU'RE KISSING CAPTAIN GODDAMN AMERICA?"  
> Hilarity ensues. Bonus points for Natasha/Pepper!"
> 
> It was posted a few years ago, but hey, I'm new here. Unbeta'd, so any mistakes are my own!

Phil, of course, is the first to find out. He carefully shuts the door behind him, the soft click of the door cutting off the insistent beeping of the machines, and practically walks straight into Captain America.

Steve is shifting from foot to foot, face grey and tight, and in a rush, Phil suddenly understands what Natasha has been hinting at him for the past three weeks.

“Captain Rogers.” He says, quietly.

Steve looks at him, gaze skittering from the closed door up to Phil’s face.

“He sustained three broken ribs and multiple contusions when the suit collapsed.” He smiles, just a little bit. Not a happy smile, a comforting smile. “I spoke to him briefly, though he wasn’t exactly lucid. He seems more upset that the suit collapsed than anything else. Considering it took nearly six hundred thousand pounds of pressure before it did, I’d say it wasn’t exactly the grand failure he keeps complaining about.”

Steve breathes out a rush of unsteady air, dragging a hand up and over his face. “Agent Coulson—” He begins, but Phil cuts him off quickly.

“Go, Rogers. Believe me when I say I understand.” He steps aside, giving Steve access to the door. “I’ll warn you though – he’s strictly resigned to bed-rest for the next several weeks. Nothing strenuous, Captain.”

Phil levels his gaze at Steve long enough that Steve gets what he means, and the blush that races across Captain America’s face is almost hilarious.

“Thank you, sir.” Steve mumbles, and eases the recovery room door open.

\--

Life goes on – aliens attack downtown, Phil’s favorite bakery is destroyed by a mud-eel infestation, and Tony has to replace the television in his living room three times because certain Avengers get far too excited playing Wii Sports.

Steve has maybe fifteen, twenty minutes before he’s expected home to catch the new episode of Survivor. He checks his watch – old-fashioned, but built, Tony swears, with a special Stark-patented alloy which will never run down or tick slowly – and quickens his pace. He’ll just drop off this sheaf of paperwork with Coulson and make it home in time to see who gets voted off the island.

He rounds the corner towards Coulson’s office and raises his fist to knock, when the murmur of voices inside freezes him in place.

“Barton, honestly, it’s not—”

“Yeah, I know, it’s not my place. I’m just saying. She’s cute, and her face does that crinkle thing when she laughs. She’s adorable, I get it.”

“Barton, Stella Pierce is a junior agent who got a little too friendly. She’s been dealt with. There is nothing going on, nor will there ever be. Have I made myself clear?”

“… Crystal, sir.”

Steve swallows uncomfortably and takes a step backwards. He shouldn’t be listening to this – whatever Coulson and Clint have going on is their business and theirs alone.

Footsteps sound – it sounds like Clint is moving towards the door – and Steve frantically looks for an escape when Coulson sighs and he stops again.

The sigh is one Steve recognizes – the sigh of a man who can’t keep up a façade for a minute longer.

“Barton. This is wildly inappropriate, but I’ve been awake for something like thirty-six hours straight and I’m completely exhausted.”

“Thirty-seven, actually. Sir.”

“Let me finish.”

Steve glances left and right and steps a hair closer but there’s silence for a long stretched moment.

Then: “Ba— Clint. Would you like to have dinner?”

There’s a strangled noise of surprise and Steve holds his breath. Come on, Clint.

“You mean—”

“If you’ll have me.”

“Holy _fuck_.”

There’s a smothered laugh, a rustle of clothing, and Steve decides it’s high time to vacate the hallway. He leaves his paperwork nearly paper-clipped together just outside Phil’s door and quietly slips away.

\--

Steve keeps his mouth shut because hey, it’s Clint and Coulson’s business whether or not they want to tell anyone and Phil keeps his mouth shut because he assumes that Clint, with all his skulking around the air ducts, already knows. After all, he lives with Steve and Tony, and the idea of a relationship between them isn’t much of a stretch.

So when Phil wakes up first, disentangling himself from Clint as carefully as he can, he doesn’t think quite so hard about heading to the kitchen. Stark always keeps it fantastically stocked, and he’s feeling a cup of coffee and some fresh fruit.

Steve’s the only one in the kitchen when he gets there, sitting at the table freshly showered from an early morning run and reading the newspaper – a paper newspaper – over a bowl of cereal.

Phil nods in greeting, and Steve smiles and that’s that, because Phil is a goddamn adult who does not get giggly in the presence of his childhood hero.

“Good run, Rogers?” He asks, making conversation as he digs around for the faded SHIELD mug he keeps forgetting to take home.

“Mmhm. I love watching the sun come up.” Steve grins at him and Phil just shakes his head, finally finding the mug behind one of Thor’s tankards and going to fill it with coffee.

Behind him, Phil hears Tony shuffle into the kitchen, dragging his feet across the tile like a zombie.

Steve chuckles and Phil turns around in time to catch Tony falter on his way to the coffee pot, changing direction without opening his eyes so he can plant a sloppy kiss on the top of Steve’s head. It’s mostly hair with a little forehead and the sparkle of amusement in Steve’s eye makes Phil’s chest go just a little tight with fondness.

Mission completed, Tony heads for the coffee maker on autopilot, and Phil steps neatly out of the way.

For a few moments, it’s companionably quiet in the kitchen, just the flip of Steve’s newspaper and the bubbling of the coffee pot.

Just outside the door there’s a thud and a muffled swear and Phil nearly snorts into his coffee. Clint appears, scowling, hair ruffled and mussed and a distinct limp to his step that Phil can’t help but feel proud of.

“Stubbed your toe?”

“Stupid wall.”

“World-class assassin, my ass.”

“Thanks, but we’re already well acquainted.”

Phil steps in and Clint meets him in the middle, dipping his head for a smooth, easy good morning kiss, and Phil presses the mug of coffee into his hands, which Clint sets at devouring with the languid enthusiasm of early morning sluggishness. 

“Oh!” Steve puts down the newspaper. “That reminds me – Coulson, Tony and I have an extra set of tickets to that new exhibit at the MET… You and Clint want them?”

“Hm.” Phil raises his eyebrows, interested despite himself. “That might be fun – we would make it a double, if you’re not opposed.”

Phil feels Clint react before he hears it, a ripple of surprise racing down his body before his master sharpshooter splutters a choking cough into what’s left of the coffee.

This is accompanied by the sharp splinter of ceramic hitting tile as Tony’s mug shatters into several pieces, pooling hot coffee in the middle of the kitchen.

“What!?”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I can’t believe—”

“—with Captain goddamn America—”

“—in _my_ house!”

“Oh, god, what surfaces—”

“JARVIS, disinfect and contain Clint’s floor—”

“— so not something I want to even _think_ —”

“Really, and no one thought to—”

“—probably the last person to find out—”

“—and why didn’t you tell me!?”

The last sentence is chorused, at almost a shout, and directed at Phil and Steve respectively.

Phil raises a smooth eyebrow, leaning against the counter. “I thought you knew. They weren’t exactly subtle.”

Steve levels an unimpressed gaze at Tony. “Clint and Coulson’s romantic life is none of our business, Tony, unless they want to share with all of us.”

Tony gapes at him, mouth open in shock, before he holds up a hand, closing his mouth abruptly and closing his eyes. “Nope. No. It’s too early in the morning for this.”

“Tony, it’s like ten-thirty.”

“Too early!” Tony leans down and pecks a kiss on Steve’s cheek, draping a hand across the back of his neck. “See you later. And you.” He points at Clint. “No sex on any communal surfaces.”

Clint crosses his arms, a wicked grin flitting across his face, and Phil is momentarily and pleasantly distracted by his archer’s biceps.

“From now on, right? Not counting what’s already happened?”

“Oh god, you didn’t.”

“You’ll never know, will you, Stark?”

Tony makes a pained sort of grimace. “TMI, Barton.” He ducks out of the kitchen, only to return a second later, poking his sleep-rumpled head back into the room. “Also, I wouldn’t lean on that particular counter.”

Clint makes a strangled noise and leaps forward. Phil would have assumed he was kidding, were it not for the fantastic flush that blooms on Steve’s cheeks. On second thought…

He pushes off the counter as well as Clint chases Tony from the kitchen. “Stark! You better not be serious! We make food on that counter!”

The voices and footsteps fade off into the distance and Phil and Steve are alone again. They roll their eyes at each other, sharing a moment of mutual affection for their respective partners. Phil picks up the mug Clint had left on the counter, and turns to freshen the coffee.

“So, tickets to the MET?”

Steve chuckles. “Think either of them would actually go for it?”

“Doubtful. They’re going to turn this into a competition that will end with disinfecting the entire tower.” Phil turns back to Steve, sipping his fresh mug of coffee. “Natasha and Pepper are probably free? Their last date night got interrupted by that mechanized squid.”

“Oh, there’s an idea.” Steve pushes back from the table, gathering his dishes and taking them to the sink.

From somewhere above them, there’s the thud of footsteps, followed by the sound of something breaking. Phil sighs, draining the coffee and putting the mug on the counter. “Children, all of you.”

Steve chuckles, swiping the empty mug and sticking it under the hot water. “Oh, you love it.”

More thudding, followed by the distinct thump of someone getting tackled.

Yeah, ok. So he loves it. Shut up. It doesn’t make him crazy.

 


End file.
